Sayonara Lipstick
by ibuberu
Summary: I'll see you when I grow up. — Elesa, Burgh.


**notes – **For the readers who follow me for my game fics. I'm sorry I have been only writing pokespe as of late! I started this a year ago and managed to finish up the bulk of it just recently. I think you can tell which parts went where, argh. Also, this is probably more like an Elesa-fic, rather than a Burgh/Elesa fic. Set pre-BW. Admittedly all-over-the-place in terms of themes (growing up, wherein lies beauty, teenagers, how to time your kisses, ?) but I wanted to publish a game fic so I decided not to be too stingy about it. Will be more gentle and productive with future game fics. Thanks and I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

**sayonara lipstick  
**

"What are you drawing?" she peered over the boy's shoulder.

He slammed the sketchbook shut before she even finished the question, clutching it to his chest and swiveling around. "N-nothing!" he said in a frantic voice, alarmed by her intrusion.

"Huh – I was just asking," Elesa replied, swaying from side to side.

He seemed to be slightly older than her, his features sharper than the boys in her class. He had green eyes and bushy hair and she could definitely see an artist in him. Maybe it was the way he held his pencil, or the way he tied his neck scarf. His pants were grassy from sitting near the river bank. As she scrutinized the stranger, he looked up at her.

"You're really pretty," he blurted out, eyes wide and jaw slack.

Elesa hesitated when she heard this. She fiddled with the skirt of her dress and stared back at him. "Oh. Um, thanks?" she replied, not particularly flattered. People called her that all the time, it was hard for her to find value in being pretty as a result. Elesa knew it was a compliment, knew any other girl would be ecstatic to hear these words, but she wasn't contented by them. She couldn't suppress the need to be defined by something other than the shape of her face.

"You don't sound happy."The boy raised his eyebrows, putting his pencil and book aside.

Elesa gave him a shrug, suddenly feeling like it hadn't been a very good idea to approach him. She considered wearing a paper bag over her head if he was going to continue staring at her. She decided to ignore him and tucked her dress neatly underneath herself, sitting a polite distance away from him. The cool sensation of the wet grass on her legs sent a chill down her spine. She wasn't used to this. Elesa tried to place her hand on a patch of ground that wasn't muddy but failed to find a suitable spot.

He continued observing her through all of this. Elesa shot a glare back at him when she'd had enough.

"Oh! I'm sorry, am I disturbing your brooding time?" His smile was an easy one.

"Yes. Yes you are," she answered pointedly, her chin resting on the crest of her bent knees.

The boy laughed at her, and Elesa felt scandalized though she didn't know why. "Will you cheer up if I let you see my sketches, then?" he offered her, leaning back against the trunk of a tree.

"… It depends," she said.

He passed her the sketchbook when she stretched a hand out. Elesa slipped a finger down the middle, flipping it open to a random page. She was greeted by an elaborate pencil sketch of a sewaddle. Every detail of the pokémon was captured by the dark lead and the precise strokes on the paper – he'd even managed to capture the light in the eyes of the bug pokémon. It looked adorable. "Now this is what I call pretty," she commented, turning the page to find another breathtaking drawing, this time of a venipede.

Beside her, surprise bloomed on the boy's face.

She skimmed through the rest of the book, finding that most of them were of bug-types, along with the occasional water or flying-type that populated the riverside. Elesa touched a finger to the drawing of a tiny joltik and traced it over the signature at the corner of the page. _Burgh. _

"You didn't find the subjects of my art odd?" Burgh asked, doubtful.

"Of course not, I love all pokémon," the girl replied, her voice softening with the respect she had for the boy now. "I'm Elesa, by the way," she added, handing the sketchbook back to its owner.

"That's a pretty name. I'm Burgh," the boy mused as Elesa ignored the former part of his sentence. "You must be weird if you like these drawings. The kids in my town used to tease me all the time for my love for bug-types. That's why I prefer to come here to draw them, since no one's around to pick on me," he explained this with a light-hearted voice.

The thirteen-year old lingered on his words. He called her 'weird'. It sounded different. She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

"Don't listen to them," she insisted, "I think your drawings are splendid."

He looked at her again, this time probing a little deeper. Elesa could feel it, like he was trying to figure out if she was telling a white lie or not. "I mean it," she said in response.

She turned to the setting sun and knew that it was time to head back home to the city. "I have to go now. Maybe we can see each other next time?" She struggled to get onto her feet without getting mud on anything she could avoid dirtying. Burgh was much faster than her and lent her a hand to steady herself on her feet again. He was a fair bit taller than her and both of them noticed it.

"Heels would suit someone like you," he told her, slowing letting go of her hand.

She didn't know how to reply to that, distracting herself by dusting the flecks of grass stuck to her skirt. Her white sandals were now brown from the trip down the beaten track. Her mother had been right; they were made only for the clean pavements of the city. Elesa felt sweat on the back of her neck.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Elesa," Burgh said as he began walking off, waving back at her.

* * *

She came by every Sunday at 2.P.M to meet him under the same tree. Elesa learned where its bulky roots surfaced out from underground and found a hobby with hopping between them. She learned that Burgh's hair was messy by default, because no matter how many times she found him, he never bothered to comb it down. Her blitzle and his sewaddle played in the patches of grass, never growing tired of each other.

Even on rainy afternoons, he was there, propping an umbrella unsteadily against his shoulder as he sketched the rippling river. Elesa stood at the bank in her yellow rain boots, holding her own umbrella over him and watching. They talked about small things like how the weather forecasts were never accurate, then, big things like how school was such a chore. She liked this boy.

2P.M. became 12P.M. then 11A.M. and then – Elesa found herself yawning beside the river at nine in the morning. She was never here alone before, and she decided to enjoy the solitary comfort, the scent of the grass and the shy trickle of the river just beyond the tips of her toes. How nice and peaceful this place was compared to the car honks and crowded streets of the city. After awhile, she heard jogging behind her and opened her eyes to find Burgh slowing to a stop behind her, his satchel on his shoulder.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said between gasps, setting himself down next to her.

"You're late, you know," she told him. "You're usually here before me."

Burgh laughed. "Terribly sorry, dear. The buses from Nacrene to Nimbasa don't start operation that early."

"Next time, there'll be a penalty," she informed him, a smile ending her words.

* * *

On an early Sunday, Elesa ran up the pathway leading to the bridge, her white shorts already spotted with dirt from the shortcut she took weaving through the small forest. This was the year she entered high school and all the myths were true. It really was the beginning of the worst period in your life.

* * *

Every morning, she arrived to a locker full of sealed letters from boys who wanted her to meet them behind the gym. She received notes from admirers of both genders, complimenting the face she only washed with soap, the hair she sometimes forgot to apply conditioner on, and eyes with poor night vision. Elesa felt mostly unhappy with all of this unwarranted attention. She wanted to be known for something other than her appearance, had always wanted to since she was a little girl.

In the beginning of her freshman year, boys lined up to ask her out.

In response, she asked them: 'What do you know about me?'

And they fell like dominos after that.

The locker-letters lessened – boys were intimidated by her now, and girls either incredibly jealous or incredibly awed. She earned the title of the ice queen. (Again, she was called something she didn't actually want to be. She didn't even like ice-types – she liked electric-types.)

Skyla was the only person who treated her normally. They met when she walked up to Elesa's table during a Monday lunch. Elesa, who was sitting alone, prodded her spaghetti with a fork, pretending not to notice. It was hard though, what with the blue-propeller in Skyla's hair.

"Is this taken?" the redhead asked even though she was already sliding into the seat opposite.

Elesa shook her head lazily.

The girl chewed on a slice of bread thoughtfully, stealing glances at Elesa in what she thought was a discreet manner. Finally, when the silence proved too great to bear, Skyla spoke. "I think you're great!" she burst out, a speck of bread flying out of her mouth.

"Thank you." Elesa threw her empty glass and discarded wrappers onto her tray, preparing to leave.

"Wait! Wait! Have a battle with me sometime?" Skyla extended a hand out.

The brunette stopped herself from standing. She turned to look at the other girl curiously. "What does that have to do with anything?" Elesa asked.

"I have the same gym class as you. Your battle skills were great!" Skyla explained in the most happiest voice. "I thought maybe we could, you know, trade strategies and duke it out with our pokémon."

Huh. This was different.

* * *

Skyla turned out to be an enjoyable person and, days later, one of Elesa's few close friends. She lived in Mistraltron but chose to enroll in a school in Nimbasa so that she could fly to and from home every day. She liked flying, apparently. She wanted to grow up to be a pilot, and she excelled in Physics and Math despite her appearance. Elesa learned not to underestimate happy-go-lucky people.

The one thing they had in common was their love for pokémon battles. Skyla favoured flying-types (predictably), but never felt she was at a disadvantage when her swanna was matched against Elesa's blitzle. Elesa admired that part of her. That confident, determined part of Skyla that Elesa wished she had in her too. The redhead knew where she was going – knew what she wanted out of her life, and how she was going to get there.

It's funny how roles reversed.

* * *

Elesa returned to the present, at the end of the route and finally on the old bridge. She had planned to tell Burgh all about her new friend today, but the news she'd gotten wind of yesterday changed everything.

"I heard that they're going to tear down and rebuild this bridge," Burgh said as she reached him, never even glancing from the drawing he was working on. Elesa wondered if he grew to recognize the rhythm of her footsteps, or maybe the smell of her shampoo – but that sounded too romantic.

"Yes," she said, her voice cracking against her command. She hadn't wanted to sound so affected. This didn't mean that they wouldn't be friends anymore, but this… this meant something. Elesa didn't know what, only that there was an awful feeling in her gut. Her parents used to warn her, almost fondly: 'things are going to be different in high school, here on out – you're growing up'. If this was part of becoming a teenager, she wasn't sure if she was going to enjoy herself for quite some time.

She folded her arms and stood next to Burgh, leaning against the bark of the tree that was here with her for three years, the tree that would be uprooted in three months. She didn't feel like sitting down. She felt as if her legs would turn to jelly if she even bent her knees. Instead, she held herself straight, chin high and strong despite the tumbling emotions inside her. "They want to build a drawbridge here, widen the water networks through Unova since trade with other regions has been flourishing. They say it's for sake of the economy and the first step into the future. They're giving it a name and everything, the project is called 'Driftveil Drawbridge'," the girl elaborated.

Then, her voice faded. She would have preferred this place to remain nameless.

The sound of lead scratching paper stopped, and Elesa peeked down just as Burgh looked up into her eyes. "This will always be our bridge though," he told her. He angled back slightly to show her the page of his sketchbook. It was a shaded drawing of a boy and a girl's tiny silhouettes, sitting together on a plain old bridge with the sun over their heads.

_Our bridge_, Elesa thought.

Maybe a name would be alright.

* * *

After the bridge renovation project started, things began changing rapidly. More developments started sprouting up everywhere; the already-tall buildings in Nimbasa stretched even higher, the people marching to work on the streets increased. The whole country seemed to spring forward, ready for changes. Unova was flourishing, and once Elesa heard that they would be building an amusement park in her city, she thought nothing else could surprise her.

She laid on her bed one morning, hand on her forehead as she struggled to wake up. A poster of her and Burgh's favourite band, _The Venipedes_, had been tacked onto the ceiling of her room. She hummed the tune of their best-selling single, 'Hey Jumpluff', her bare foot tapping against the side of her mattress. Her mind was awake, but her body still felt so sleepy and heavy – and as the fan in her room cooled her face, she felt herself drift back to sleep. Skyla wouldn't mind if she missed first period, or second. Summer school wasn't even compulsory anyway.

"Elesa…" a distant call.

"Elesa!" getting louder.

"_Elesa!_"

She stretched and yawned out of her unintended nap, wondering who was calling her at seven in the morning. She wandered over to the window and looked out to see Burgh waiting on the street beside her apartment. He was in his school uniform, a plain white buttoned shirt and dark pants – nothing like the formal uniforms with shiny badges and ironed ties the schools in Nimbasa made their students wear. It reminded Elesa that he was a country boy through and through. She tugged at the sleeve of her baggy nightshirt self-consciously, wondering if it gave off a sloppy impression. If Burgh thought anything of it, he didn't think it was worth commenting on, because he kept his lips in a closed smile.

"What are you doing here?" she shouted down. "Shouldn't you be in Nacrene?"

"I'm not going summer school today," Burgh yelled back, voice bright and thrilled despite the time of day. Elesa chuckled as the passer-bys on the street below shot him looks of disapproval for announcing it so proudly. Burgh didn't pay them any mind, his gaze never leaving her window.

"So, what do you want?" she asked, leaning against her windowsill in a playful fashion. Blitzle pattered into her room and stuck his head out too. Elesa threw an arm around his neck and the both of them stared down at the boy, awaiting his answer.

"There's an art exhibition in Castelia today!" he told her with excitement. "Come with me?"

"Is this a date?" she asked, half-joking, half – …. something else.

"Sure! Breakfast is my treat," Burgh beamed. "And wear your uniform! The ticket prices are cheaper for students."

Early mornings made you prone to feeling brave, but also prone to making bad decisions. She wondered if this applied to her or to Burgh, or to both of them.

"Lunch is on you, though!" he added.

Definitely her.

* * *

"You never told me the tickets would cost so much even after the discount," Elesa sighed. She clipped her purse and stroked her braid over her shoulder. Burgh had plaited it for her on the bumpy bus ride. He was understandably adept at things like these.

"Art is priceless!" was Burgh's counter.

Before Elesa could say anything else, she felt his presence leave her side. The boy dashed up to the first painting in the gallery, a splotch of colours that Elesa couldn't make out. She joined Burgh, lowering her head to read the title printed on the display plate. 'The Numel'.

She spent the next few minutes trying to figure out where the numel was.

"What do you think?" Burgh asked her.

"It looks… nice?" she attempted, feebly. This was a whole other world from the simple pencil sketches he used to share with her – this was the kind of art that sold thousands at auctions and made people stand in front of them to clasp their chins for extended periods of time.

"It's pretty, yes, but you can tell that there's much more thought behind it. What matters isn't how nice it looks, but what's the message it's trying to convey. There's a lot of unsaid things here that you don't notice at first glance," Burgh explained, his eyes scanning the painting, taking in the colours and the way they were been splattered over the canvas. "Kind of like you, huh?"

Elesa looked up from the yellows and greens, blinking.

Burgh shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Habit of mine – saying things without thinking."

She felt the corner of her mouth quirk. "I forgive you," she said in a quiet voice, though there was nothing to forgive, really.

* * *

It was already past noon when they finished viewing the entire exhibition. Elesa convinced Burgh to accompany her back home. She didn't like wandering around in her uniform, and she had to break her mamoswine-bank to scrounge up sufficient money to pay for their lunch.

"Hello," Burgh greeted her mother as they entered her apartment.

"Ah, you've grown so much, Burgh! So tall and handsome now – isn't he, Elesa?"

The girl flinched. "Whatever you say," she replied meekly, darting into her room.

As Elesa searched through her closet to find something simple to wear, throwing a yellow dress out onto her bed along with a pair of blue leggings, she heard Burgh step into her room.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to wear that," the boy said. "That colour combination doesn't compliment your skin tone at all," he lamented. "I'd suggest black stockings instead."

Elesa rummaged through the hangers before emerging with an old pair she wore to a wedding a year ago. "Like this?" she asked, and Burgh gave a neutral gesture with his hand, as if saying 'that will have to do'.

She pushed him outside and slammed the door, quickly changing out of her blouse and skirt. She checked herself in her dresser, deciding to undo her braid since strands of hair were already curving out of place. Then, she realised that Burgh had been right. Her outfit matched her black hair and made her skin look lighter.

But when had she been interested in looking pretty? She wanted to be more than that, she knew she was more than that – she _hoped_ that she was more than that. Elesa clutched the fabric of her skirt.

"El, you have to learn how to accessorize too."

Burgh had snuck into her room under her notice. He held a pair of lightning-bolt earrings in one hand, and a gold necklace in the other, appearing beside her in the full-length mirror.

"There's no need," she said.

"Oh, come on," Burgh laughed as he tried to clip the necklace around her neck.

"There's no need," she repeated, elbowing his arm away. "I don't need to accessorize or to match my clothes, I don't need to look nice. I don't know why everyone keeps forcing it on me," she said, angrier. She was angry at herself for being angry at Burgh – this wasn't his fault.

The boy placed the trinkets on her dresser. "What's the matter?"

_Everything_, Elesa wanted to say. Or maybe just one thing, her.

Instead, she fled.

* * *

That was stupid. She had no one to blame but herself.

Elesa stopped jogging after a few turns and dashes down streets. She came to a cul-de-sac of shopcarts and benches for passers-by to rest. This was a part of the city she didn't frequent often – usually too crowded, and she always turned too many heads. Today, there was a strange lack of people in the area. Maybe because it was too hot even for summer, and everyone who could stay indoors had chosen to. Elesa deposited herself on an empty bench, breathless as she preoccupied herself with trivial thoughts like these.

Soon, as Burgh appeared in the distance, Elesa knew that she could no longer use the summer as a reason to dodge the thoughts that kept her awake at night.

"Can – I – sit here?" he wheezed, one arm on his waist as he leaned over.

Elesa wanted to smile. She reminded herself that she was supposed to be angry, though. She crossed and uncrossed her legs before tilting her chin. The boy mumbled 'thanks' and sat down quietly, tugging a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket.

She wanted to apologise, to blame it on being a teenager, a girl with no self esteem. But that was cheating, and if there was only one thing Elesa knew for sure in all this mess of emotions, it was that she never wanted to say that she someone she wasn't.

So she said, "Sorry, I have no excuses," satisfied for the first time that day.

"It's okay," Burgh said after he caught his breath, and he wasn't even being nice. He genuinely meant it. "But El, you need to know that you're beautiful – just not in the way you think you are."

Elesa didn't move, but her hands clenched.

"When we'd just met, I thought the same way you're thinking now. That this girl is breathtakingly beautiful because of her dark hair and her eyes, her smooth skin." Burgh seemed lost in thought. "But then, I realised that there's so much more to you than that, that you're a pro at battles, especially with electric-types, that you love pokémon so much, that you're nice even though you can be brutally blunt sometimes. You never lie, you're a high-achiever, always searching for that one goal," Burgh babbled. Elesa never stopped listening.

"And I haven't found it," she said, knuckling her forehead.

"Have patience," he told her, grinning. "And I wasn't done, you know. I wanted to tell you that those qualities are what make you beautiful, not just your face." Burgh tentatively took her left hand in his. "You've got to have confidence in yourself, know that your inside is just as pretty as your outside."

Were these the words she needed to hear all along? She didn't feel like crying. Could her emotions be backed-up and jammed somewhere inside the cavity of her chest? Maybe she would be sobbing into Skyla's arms two weeks later, when they finally hit her heart. For now, it felt like a weight had been thrown off her shoulders. Burgh had scrawny arms, he didn't look like the type that could do heavy-lifting, yet Elesa felt like she could trust him.

"Thank you," was the only thing she could bring herself to say. She squeezed his fingers before letting go, not wanting to keep physical contact with him for so long. She had enough on her mind for today. She folded her hands, one on top of the other, and rested them on her lap. Elesa heard the boy beside her exhale and relax, and she allowed herself the luxury of slouching against the bench. They didn't talk after that, but it was a companionable kind of silence.

The atmosphere here was pleasant. , it was rare to find a spot like this in the city. Elesa closed her eyes, deciding to appreciate the moment, the way the mild wind skated across her skin, the glow of the afternoon sun, the fact that she was with her best friend. Times like these existed in quiet indie songs, in the novels she hid under her bed.

She felt a hand touch her cheek and wheeled around to face Burgh. His fingers retreated in an instant. He looked uncharacteristically embarrassed about something.

"Oh – just, something on your face," Burgh coughed as he edged away from her.

Elesa smudged her thumb against her cheek and inspected it.

Nothing.

* * *

Skyla rolled back and forth on the bed, a paper airplane in her hand.

"So, how're things with Burgh?"

Elesa lifted her eyes from the magazine was she reading, trying not to look shaken. "You make it sound like there's something going on between us," she said, avoiding locking eyes with Skyla. She tried to focus on the sky blue wallpaper of the room and the multiple airplanes models hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh come on, you used to talk about him all the time," her friend laughed, crossing her legs as she sat up on the covers. "Did something happen?"

The brunette drew the magazine up to her nose and covered the lower half of her face with it. She liked the smell of print on paper, it calmed her. "Nothing's happened," she mumbled underneath the pages, trying hard not to sound like she had a silly crush. She had told her mother confidently that she wouldn't succumb to such teenage pitfalls.

But – too late.

"Oh. That's why you're so down, huh?" Skyla saw through her. Never underestimate the happy-go-lucky types.

When Elesa didn't respond, the redhead launched the airplane into the air. It sailed across the room and landed squarely on her head.

* * *

"So, what're you going to do after you graduate?" Elesa asked him as they sat along the old abandoned railroads of Nacrene. She hardly visited his hometown, but when she did, she enjoyed her time there. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes and listened hard enough, she thought she could hear the trains still chugging with life and purpose, the sound of people travelling and mingling.

"The school's been giving us career guidance talks, especially for those who aren't that good with pokémon," Burgh told her. He was only a year ahead of her, yet it felt like he knew so much more than her, that he was growing up so much faster now.

"You're great at pokémon battles, though," Elesa said, remembering all the friendly matches they held over the years. Pokémon battling was leisure for Burgh, but for her, it was something she'd grown genuinely interested in over the years. It was nice to find a training partner in him, the pokémon he used were different from the types her friends in school preferred. They offered her a different challenge.

"I want to go into art and maybe dabble in fashion – but that's not really stable, is it?" Burgh pondered.

Elesa shook her head. "You shouldn't let that stop you, though," she advised him.

The boy nodded in agreement. "But I need a side-job to help bring the bacon home," he said, "which is where the gym leader application will come in."

The girl straightened her posture in surprise. "You're going to be a gym leader?"

Burgh laughed, it was a modest sort of laugh. It suited him. "I'm trying to be one. Castelia City's leader has been thinking about retiring now, so they've opened applications for someone to take her place."

Castelia was only twenty minutes away from Nimbasa. Castelia was also where Unova's art scene thrived. Burgh belonged there despite his roots in the countryside. She envied him – he already knew how everything was going to fall into place. He just needed to survive getting there.

Elesa didn't even have a place to go to yet.

* * *

The amusement park opened the week before her birthday, the week before she turned eighteen. Turning eighteen was not nearly as important as being sixteen or being twenty-one, but she didn't know why she wanted this year to claim her favourite birthday. Elesa thought she would feel this way for every year no matter what the number.

Burgh messaged her on the week leading up to her 18th, telling her to keep the night of her birthday open. If she had plans, they were to be pushed aside or rescheduled. (Elesa didn't. She had hoped that he would spend time with her.) They were going to hit the city together and visit the park to watch the fireworks display at night. Skyla read the text over her shoulder and began celebrating in the middle of the cafeteria. Elesa reluctantly let her excitable friend drag her shopping for new shoes and an outfit for the occasion. She had to stop Skyla from showering her in blue-coloured clothing items – only yielding when she was shown a sleek pair of blue heels.

"You'll thank me for this one day," Skyla told her as she tamed her hair into a ponytail.

"By being as enthusiastic when you finally find a love interest," Elesa laughed. Skyla hit her on the head with the flat surface of the brush, but thanked her diplomatically in advance.

* * *

"This is my first time riding a ferris wheel," Burgh said as they waited in line.

"Mine too." Elesa rubbed her arms, feeling slightly chilly. Skyla had advised her to wear the thicker pea coat, but Elesa had found that the thinner one matched her ensemble more. She would be practical next time round.

Burgh noticed her shivering and said, "It's chilly, huh?"

"Autumn's almost ending, after all."

Burgh nodded, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He never offered a solution to her predicament – no jacket draped casually over her shoulders, no arm wrapped around her. Of course. Elesa gave herself a mental slap. She was so tangled in her frustrating imagination that she hadn't noticed that they were already boarding a compartment.

Burgh checked his wristwatch. "Anytime now," he told her as they squeezed together on one side, gazing out of the glass windows in anticipation. Elesa was distracted by the sleeves of their jackets touching, that she nearly missed the first stream of firework springing to the air. The tiny green spark burst into a bright flower against the background of the night. The rest of the display followed, leaving her speechless, a technicolour show glowing and fading in front of them.

Elesa thought the fireworks were beautiful as they burst into a rainbow of colours, like a hydro pump in the sky. Then, she thought the boy sitting beside her was beautiful too, but in a different way. In different ways.

She found herself slanting towards him. Burgh didn't seem to notice, his eyes darting away from her to the bag he kept at his side. Elesa wondered if Burgh liked girls who were forward about things like these. She realised that she and Burgh had never talked much about the types of people they liked. She made a mental note to ask him later before closing her eyes and pulling on the sleeve of his jacket. As he faced her, she held her breath. He smelled faintly of acrylic paint underneath his light cologne. The combination of those two scents made her think of their bridge.

"_Happy birthday!"_

Elesa yelped back, banging her head against the low roof and collapsing in a mess of limbs on the floor of the car. Burgh jolted, "I didn't think you'd be that surprised," he said with worry. Elesa rubbed the sore spot on her head and struggled back onto the seat, trashing whatever romantic notions she had had earlier. Her timing was horrible.

Burgh, unaffected by her stumble, beamed at her, holding a pair of headphones in his hands.

"Wow, these look hip," she said, receiving her present with care and examining it curiously. They were round, one red and the other blue, long cords dangling from each of the headphones. "I thought this evening was the present, not – these."

"You underestimate me," Burgh said dramatically.

Elesa regarded him, holding the headphones under her chin, feeling her smile reach her eyes.

"Perhaps."

* * *

She was out of high school and jobless.

"Dear, why don't you try out for gym leader in Nimbasa? Didn't Burgh do the same thing awhile back? It can't be that hard," her mother said as she washed the dishes. They were discussing her future career path over dishes. When it came to matters like boys and friendships, her mother made her sit on the sofa and they would talk with freshly brewed tea between them. How jarring was all of this? Elesa shrugged off the thought and continued to wipe.

"I've already sent in my application," Elesa informed her. When she heard a knock on their front door, she exchanged a questioning look with her mother. "I wasn't expecting anyone," she said as she dried her hands and went to open the door.

Burgh stood on her welcome mat, pink scarf draped over his shoulders, a butterfree belt at his pants. These were the clothes he wore when he was working in his gym. "Quickly, I need you to come with me now," he told her, taking her hand. Elesa gestured to her mother before slipping on a pair of sandals and locking the door behind her.

* * *

"So, what's up?" she asked as they walked down the street.

"A friend was looking for someone to model in their latest project, so I thought, why not you?"

She halted. Elesa dug her heels against the pavement and pulled her arm back, taunt. Burgh nearly fell from the sudden exertion of force. He shot her a bewildered look. He shouldn't be surprised, Burgh should know this, Burgh should _know_ this.

"El, what's wrong?"

"You," she blurted out. "You always pull me along without asking for my opinion. You just assume that I'm fine with everything! I'm – I'm not!"

She wasn't getting caught in his web again.

Burgh's expression faltered. His brow crinkled as he said, "You're right."

Elesa crossed her arms as he let go of her hand. She couldn't tell if she was unhappy because he was expecting her to model, or because he had expected her to agree right off the bat. It was a combination of both, probably.

"But I – I thought it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot," Burgh said. "It's a pokémon shoot. Out of all the people I know, you're one of the people who love pokémon the most. I thought that it'd be natural, and that you'd look forward to it."

"You know how I feel about myself," Elesa said simply in reply.

Burgh swallowed, he was guilty and remorseful, she could tell by the way he looked at her.

"Yes, but you're misunderstanding a model's job. I should have explained it to you before dragging you along, I'm sorry about that part – but, don't judge the job without knowing what it's about!" Burgh said this with conviction.

Elesa leaned against the wall of the building they had stopped in front of. She motioned for him to elaborate. Burgh looked more than happy to do so.

"A model doesn't just need to have a pretty face, they have to be able to convey a message in their photos, they need to speak to the viewer without using words, they need to be charismatic. Elesa, you have that," he said, hands gesturing. "When I see you with your pokémon, I can tell how much you respect them and love them – and we need more of those genuine kind of photos in the industry. You don't treat pokémon like an accessory; you treat them like your friends and your equals – that's the theme of my friend's project. She was excited to meet you when I told her about you, and before I knew it, I was promising her that I would take you to meet her and – and I'm sorry." Burgh hung his head. " – Sorry?" he tried again.

"Alright, that's enough," Elesa sighed. "Well, we can't help it if you promised," she said.

Burgh looked up at her hopefully. "So you'll do it?"

"Not happily," she disclaimed, but began walking once more. Burgh fell into place beside her.

"Oh, you never know, you might find a natural affinity for the job," he teased. "By the way, the friend I mentioned? She's actually a pretty established photographer – so there are, uh, interviews and auditions for the modeling job."

Elesa shook her head. "You owe me a battle after this." She would get this over and done with and make Burgh swear he would never involve her in such flight of fancies again. And trump his leavanny once and for all.

* * *

Great. She was actually nervous about this.

"What do I do? Strike a pose? I don't know any poses to strike!" she asked him, unable to ease away the spike of uncertainty in the pit of her gut.

Burgh clasped her shoulders and gave her an encouraging squeeze. "Just be yourself. Elesa, you're at your most stunning when you're yourself, no one else," Burgh whispered into her ear. He was suddenly so close. She wanted to angle her chin up, wanted to press her lips to his. If she could bring herself to do that, she would be invincible.

"But have you thought of dying your hair? Change is good, every now and then." A secret.

"We'll see," she said as she laced her fingers with his waiting hand. She could dye her hair after this if she wanted to. And she could kiss him after this – if she wanted to.

They walked out of the darkened hallway and into the spotlight.


End file.
